I awoke to a winter wonderland, heavy snow that the temperatures could barely transform from the rain that fell through the night. The daffodils, so bright in their sunny colors, are bowed down with the snow’s weight upon their heads. I went out and picked a bouquet of those that were already flattened to the ground, their light obscured by the winter white. They raised their heads in a vase of warm water and shook off the snowy wetness, to shine their beauty once again.
I felt such honoring for those blooms that held upright under this late onslaught of winter after days of warmth and sunshine. This is so many of us, continuing to shine our light, despite the weight of this crumbling world threatening to muffle us under a heavy blanket that falls so insidiously. Our role is to stand tall, continue to hold our heads up and our sweet hearts open for all to see. We can offer to brush the snow of the ones who are flattened, to bring them into the warmth of our visions and dreams so that they might know their own beauty as they see it reflected in our eyes.
This landscape of the Northeast Kingdom informs me on so many levels. It infuses my days with a deep connection to nature that blesses me in every moment. I awake to sunrise streaming through my windows, luring me to the front porch or lawn to witness the greater panaramic view. Evenings, I watch the sun do its dance before she sets over the hillside….coinciding most nights when I am at the kitchen sink, hands deep in dishwater as my heart expands with the clouds and colors of the evening.
I was amazed to see the trees present a color of spring, before their leaves have unfurled. I know of the new green opening, the rich autumn colors of the leaves’ demise but had not truly taken in the misty colors of buds forming. There is a red of the red maples, the pussy willow yellow buds, a grey green haze of many trees whose name I do not know. What I do know is a sense of awe as I look at the woods and see the soft colors that proceed the full opening of the leaves of summer. It is a new experience and one that I am relishing along with the recent days of warmth that saw my family taking quick plunges into icy streams and lakes as well as dances through the sprinkler on the back lawn. I did get pulled into that dance by my grandson, squealing in shock and delight at the sudden coldness. Resting afterwards in the intensity of the sun, with its warmth that touched the outer surface of my winter white skin.
We are living through extraordinary times. Intense discomfort comes and goes in my heart and body. Anxiety, unease, jangly energies run amok in me as well as a bliss that flows in the same pathways. Some days I cannot keep enough food in my body, it seems to burn up an hour after eating. Fatigue pulls me down and I then lie there awake. My body has no sense of night nor day as I have tea and toast at 3 am and fall into a deep sleep at 4 pm. My grandson wakes me, “Nana, it is dinner time!’ and I struggle up from some far away place. The inner hum feels excitable with what is to come, that we are on a precipice. My mind argues that we have felt this energy before….decades of dancing the mantra, magic and miracles are here, only to live once again the tapped down life of this reality. And yet, my heart says, this time is different. This time is true.
Our family moves soon to become stewards of a piece of land..our own loveland that my former hubby and I dreamed of in our youth. Now, decades later and we will live our dream in a form not imagined in those early days. We would not have imagined the valleys of despair, the loneliness that can be experienced within a marriage, the mountain peaks of joy with our three children and in turn, our grandchildren. The going out and pulling apart followed by the coming together as friends, as anchors for our family unit of love.
To steward some land, to invest in its beauty and offerings. I have felt the land talking to me. It has a small, dark house built upon it, spent 30 years under the stewardship of a couple that held a typical Yankee utilitarian outlook on life. We will lighten and enlarge the house, add new dwellings that have lived long in our imaginations as we amplify the beauty of the land. It is quivering in anticipation as it knows it is to anchor a love pod of the new earth. We will create in communion with the land and elementals. Magic and miracles will be present and acknowledged.
Just a day ago, sunshine illuminated these flowers.
The swift change of season, the way this weather seeks to keep me ever present to life, builds such a wealth of gratitude in my heart. My world is small in regards to relationships as this state of Vermont holds tight to the masks and vaccines and strictures that are not part of my being. Folks fear to gather so we weave our way around, standing on the porch of library and general store to get books and groceries that we preorder online. We have found some dear hearts of resonant frequencies who live close to the land and its dictates, not the programming of the outer world. I have a few dear friends whose hearts keep mine afloat when I am in need though we live distances apart. My five year old grandson affords me laughter and opportunities to play each day and my three month old granddaughter allows me to slow and settle into the rhythm of the rocking chair and her sleeping weight that fills my chest with a peace that breathes me.
These times, these times! They demand our attention and intentions. They call out our dreams and our courage. I am here, gratefully so.
Irritability, nausea, head pressure, dizziness make for a grouchy gal! My, that light flowing in is doing some excavating. It is almost 6 am and I have been awake most of the night. Intense dreams filled time asleep. Now I am sitting by the fire, watching a glowing red orb peek over the distant hills. The sky is muted purple and pinks, giving light to a soft blue. The birds are singing the sun up and I am grateful to be a witness to its rising.
We are on the cusp of a huge transition as a collective. We are purging the old energies of pain and despair. It can feel uncomfortable. I remind myself that it is a pattern of change that suddenly what was once tolerable, is no longer. Little things irritate beyond reason, patience is stretched thin, my entire emotional field feels fried. I feel as worn as an old piece of silk that has seen decades of wear. Any frequency that is not crystal clear, feels like an assault. Old ways of interacting leave me exhausted.
